Hope is a Funny Thing
by Tallin Chase
Summary: A themed story for an Avatar writing competition. This story is about Jet reliving the day his family was killed by the Fire Nation.


Team: Earth Kingdom

Round 2: Hope

Story: Theme

Prompt: Jet

Word Count: 1,424

Hope is a very funny thing. It's not some tangible and undeniable force like gravity; it's more selective than that. Some people could clutch so tightly to hope that it became a lifeline, strong enough to withstand any force against them. Some people could endure endless suffering, all in the name of hope for something better beyond the horizon. Some people could preach of better things to come, with bright blue eyes shining with hope…

Jet was not one of those people.

He was driven, but he wasn't sure that it was hope that burned in his chest, forcing him to move forward in spite of everything and everyone that got in his way. Perhaps that was vengeance, perhaps it was anger… and maybe, it was fear.

As Jet lay dying on a cold, stone floor, he felt more afraid than he'd ever been in his life.

Well, that's not exactly true.

He was pretty sure that he'd only been more scared once, a long time ago, when the Fire Nation had destroyed his family.

" _Jet, honey, come inside! It's almost time for dinner!"_

 _Little Jet huffed a sigh. He wasn't done with his project yet! "Coming, mom!" he called and gingerly set down the unfinished product behind a boulder._

 _As he ran out of the woods toward his humble village home, his mother stood waiting in the doorway. She was a beautiful woman, made even prettier by her wide and genuine smile. She wore her long, dark hair back in a braid that sashayed down her back gracefully, and her dark eyes sparkled in amusement at the sight of her son sprinting to her. She rested a gentle hand on her rounded stomach and asked, "What have you been up to, Mr. Sneaky?"_

 _Jet pulled to an abrupt stop before her and looked down, scuffing his feet in the dirt. "Nothin'," he mumbled._

" _Mmhmm. Well, come on in, your father is already at the table, and he's probably eaten half of the soup I made—"_

 _Jet gasped and dashed around his pregnant mother. Her laughter rang through the house, soothing and melodic. Jet always loved making his mother laugh._

 _Part of him was hoping that he would have a new baby sister soon, and that she would have a laugh just like Mom's. The other part of him (the larger part, if he was being honest,) was really looking forward to a baby brother. He could teach him all about the fighting techniques his father had shown him! They could play pirates with the wooden swords Jet had been working on all week! Of course, Jet would have to teach him fast so he wouldn't just win super easily every time, which meant that Jet would have to finish those swords soon before the baby came. But right now, the rumbling in his tummy told him that his project would have to wait._

 _His mom had been right; Dad was already at the table, and his own bowl of soup was nearly empty. He glanced up from his meal at Jet, then eyed Jet's bowl hungrily. Jet gasped and vaulted for his chair, digging into his soup and ignoring the burning in his throat from his haste._

 _Dad just laughed and finished his soup in rapid spoonfuls. He rose from the table and tucked a blade of grass into the corner of his mouth, as he was prone to do when he was thinking about something._

" _Going somewhere?" asked his wife, who now stood in the doorway with concern in her face._

 _He walked over to her and kissed her on the forehead. "Just a little meeting in the barn, dear. It shouldn't take long."_

 _She rolled her eyes. "You always say that."_

 _He laughed. "What can I say? The fight for freedom is a long one."_

" _Dad, are you and the Freedom Fighters gonna beat the Fire Nation?" Jet piped up, hope and faith glinting in his eyes. Jet believed his father could do anything, why couldn't he defeat the Fire Nation like he'd always talked about with the other neighborhood Freedom Fighters?_

 _His father turned and tousled his hair. "No, son, I don't think so… but I can show them that we're not about to bow down to them, either."_

 _Jet whooped triumphantly, choosing to ignore the part where he said he wouldn't beat the Fire Nation. With a smile, Dad left the room._

 _Little did he know, that would be the last time he would see his beloved father again._

 _Later that night, Jet was feeling restless. He couldn't stop thinking about the swords he'd been working on in the woods. He tiptoed out of bed, figuring that he might as well try to finish them, since he was awake already. He walked through the trees and spotted his hiding spot easily in the moonlight._

 _The swords were not cooperating with Jet. Granted, they were just made with sticks and twine he'd found lying around, but one of the sticks had a strange hook at the end that he couldn't get rid of, no matter how many times he sawed at it with his rock. He got to work on it again._

 _Some time later, he heard a crackling noise and distant shouting, and strange black flurries began to fill the thickening air. Jet coughed, wondering why it'd suddenly become so hard to breathe. He took his swords and moved toward the edge of the trees. When he got there, he dropped everything in horror._

 _The village was engulfed in flames. His home, the barn, his neighbors… everything was on fire. He heard a terrified scream and looked to see a woman being cornered by a man atop a monstrous beast with a long horn._

" _So you and your village vigilantes think that you can just get away with plotting against the Fire Nation?" roared the rider at her._

" _Please, don't do this…" she whimpered._

" _You brought this on yourself," he shouted. He raised a fire-filled hand and brought it down upon the woman._

 _Jet knew who she was by the scream that tore through the air. It was his mother._

 _Jet couldn't move. He couldn't even scream. He just turned and ran as far away as his little legs would carry him and buried himself in the safety of the trees. He was shaking and sobbing and utterly terrified, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth… until silence had fallen and the sky filled with a dim gray light._

 _Jet stumbled numbly back to the village to find no survivors. There was only ash and rubble, and other things he couldn't bring himself to look at. Everyone was dead. Everything was gone._

 _He heard something snap beneath his feet. He looked down. It was his little swords, not nothing more than a pile of snapped twigs. He picked them up gingerly and cradled them in his hands. When he looked up, he stared at the pathway that the murderers had taken, marked by the huge prints in the dirt._

 _Jet closed his fist around the wood tight enough to dig into his skin, ignoring the trickle of blood that ran down his hands._

Jet had always believed that the Fire Nation had taken everything from him. But here he was, in a grave of his own making, realizing that he had rebuilt a life with hope and friendship in his Freedom Fighters, first in the woods, then again in Ba Sing Se, with Longshot and Smellerbee. He had a family… and then he'd thrown all of that away again and again. For what? For revenge? Or just because he was bent on his own destruction? Maybe it was just because he'd never really forgiven himself from running away that night, for being the one that survived.

The Fire Nation wasn't his worst enemy. He was.

But as he struggled to breathe, he remembered his mother's laugh, his father's smile, and he imagined a little boy waiting to play pirates with him on the other side. That image got brighter and brighter, until he felt like he could reach out and touch the little boy's outstretched hand. Jet felt something warm and bright fill his chest, something that felt suspiciously like hope.

Jet closed his eyes one last time.


End file.
